


Hold on when you get love

by Sourcherrymagiks



Series: Your Ex Lover is Dead [3]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit mention of Love, Fluff and Smut, Graphic descriptions of softness, M/M, Porn with Feelings, cuddlesmut, gratuitous feelings, spooning death grip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 17:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22347544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourcherrymagiks/pseuds/Sourcherrymagiks
Summary: I’m a disgrace to everything I hold dear. How is it that I can’t even torture my lover to orgasm without turning into a soppy mess of feelings?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Your Ex Lover is Dead [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593220
Comments: 24
Kudos: 220





	Hold on when you get love

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the incomparable [Warriorbeeofthesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarriorBeeoftheSea) For coining the phrase ‘cuddlesmut’ and reading my rambling 💕💕💕 
> 
> I seem to be on a weird mission to use as many Stars lyrics as possible in my fics here’s the verse from the song I used as the title:
> 
> There’s been a lot of talk of love  
> But that don't amount to nothing  
> You can evoke the stars above  
> But that doesn't make it something
> 
> And the only way to last  
> And the only way to live it  
> Is to hold on when you get love,  
> And let go when you give it.

**Baz**

It’s early. The light streaming in through the windows is grey and watery. Its going to be vile outside today.

Good.

There is absolutely no reason why I should make any effort to get up. Now all I have to do is make the gorgeous ball of overheated energy that I’m curled around aware of the _advantages_ of staying right here. 

Simon Snow is lying in my arms looking like something carved out of sunshine. Beautiful in the morning light. Obviously he always looks beautiful but there is something about the way he’s completely at peace in the morning. Like all of the bad things take time to seep in. He’s more fragile as the day goes on, less solid. Here, in our bed, as the sun comes up he’s almost serene. 

I mean there is the snoring. 

That hardly angelic. 

He’s not snoring right now though because the fucking horror is awake and pretending not to be. Crowley knows why, to be contrary probably.

I can work with contrary. I can work contrary right up. 

The smallest arch of my spine pushes my bare chest flush against his unspeakably lovely back. There’s not even a whisper between us and I have to close my eyes and _feel_ it for a moment. 

I will not rut against his arse. I am not a horny teenager, it’s utterly demeaning for a Pitch to be so needy and attention seeking. 

I do need his attention though. 

I need him screaming to be fucked so dry humping him is not the ideal trajectory. I’ll lose before we start.

“Simon, I know you are awake. I’m plotting here so if you don’t want to be the victim of my villainous schemes you need to speak up. Otherwise you are all mine, completely in my power and I won’t go easy"

The very corner of his lip twitches just slightly. 

Fan-fucking-tastic.

There’s a purple bruise on his shoulder where I may possibly have been a little too enthusiastic last night. I circle it with my fingertips, lightly brushing the fine blond hairs, watching the gooseflesh rise under the cold of my hand. Simon clenches his jaw almost imperceptibly. The delightful idiot thinks I’m not going to notice. As if it is even faintly possible that I could not perceive his every single movement. He is a book I’ve been reading for years. I know each line, each scene, each twist. It was only the happy ending that I never saw coming. An ending where I’m holding Simon, happy and safe in my arms, with no mission calling to him, no emergency waiting to rip us apart, just the slow, honeyed passage of hours like this. Hours where he becomes more and more mine. 

I press my mouth to the bruise and tease at it, tugging the skin with my lips then pulling back before it gets interesting. Simon’s appalling acting is getting fractionally worse, he’s shifting his shoulders further into me, closer to my mouth. But I’ve exhausted the possibilities of that particular spot for now. I draw my teeth across his ear lobe, not quite nipping, breathing cool air onto his neck. My hand is tangling in his hair, fingernails against his scalp, palm against the clipped undercut. He lets out a very quiet hum and I breathe in the scent of his shampoo. I’m already hard because, _Simon_ , but the smell makes me ache. Orange and cinnamon and the memories of an awful lot of shower sex. A lot. I feel that we have overcome the challenges in our height difference exceptionally well. Mostly through sheer determination and super strength. 

Time to move on. I ghost the back of my hand down his chest and pause at his hip.

He lets out a shaky breath but his eyes are still closed, even if his eyelashes are fluttering. 

**Simon**

  
He is so fucking ruthless when he’s like this. I’m already rock hard and he’s barely touched me. I dunno if I can win this one. I don’t even know when it became a game, or what the fucking rules might be. That’s the problem with Baz, he has to win (I’m fucking crazy about it, I’ve been crazy about it for most of my life). To be honest I can’t find much to be annoyed about. His fingers are a bit cold on my hip but he’s doing this thing where it feels like he’s writing on my skin. It’s not tickling me but it is making the muscles in my belly jump (and my cock, it’s no good, he’s too fucking hot for me to resist). I have to concentrate on not moaning, groaning or making any of the other noises that will give me away. 

But fuuuuccccckkkk it’s good. I might be being a bit sappy here but I feel like I’m being memorised. Like I’m worth knowing. That would have killed this before. Sent me over the edge. But all the therapy, all the pills and all the not having him love me (I can’t ever lose him again) have got us to here.   
His cold mouth is pressed to my neck, a hint of a shudder runs down my spine.

“Crowley, Simon, how are you here? How is this real?”

It’s too tender, it’s just right.

I rock my hips in a way that he can interpret as either sleep stretches or a come on. This is his romp. I wouldn’t want to mess with whatever he’s scheming.

**Baz**

I’m a disgrace to everything I hold dear. How is it that I can’t even torture my lover to orgasm without turning into a soppy mess of feelings?

Still I can salvage some pride here, he’s starting to unravel a tiny bit.   
I trace a line up the centre of his chest and tilt his chin up so I can kiss his neck properly. I lick into the hollow of his collarbone and up his jaw line, pausing at each mole to drop a tiny kiss. He tastes faintly of sweat. The shower sex does impact on the general levels of cleanliness but, Crowley, he is delicious.   
There is altogether not enough skin available to me, it’s a situation I cannot allow to continue. I drag my hand down to meet his then hoist his arm up and lay it on my shoulder. It’s all golden skin and rippling muscles. He is flagrantly and conspicuously ripped these days (because he’s still a weapon) (not now, we aren’t doing that now).

The additional possibilities of this position cloud my vision for a moment, then I recover enough wherewithal to make my next move. Simon lets out a tiny huff of air as I pinch his nipple between my spit slicked fingers. His breathing is starting to give him away. I mercilessly increase the pressure.

**Simon**

Siegfried and fucking Roy. I can’t hold on much longer. I’d rather fight a goblin army then keep my voice down through this. I feel like all the sounds I want to make are fuelling the blaze inside me. But if I do he might stop. If I don’t he might carry on. 

I’m fucked either way.

I decide he’s had it too much his own way this morning already. He’ll only get spoilt if I don’t fight back a bit.

I’m not one of God’s more subtle creatures but I am adaptable. This situation calls for a bit of cunning. 

The noise he makes is fucking delightful. All I did was tilt my hips forward a bit. I suppose it did make it so his cock got pushed up against me, exactly where I wanted it (exactly where he wanted it if that sigh was anything to go by). I’m not even a bit sorry. 

It’s proper driving _him_ mental that I haven’t gone far enough for him to consider the game won. 

But now it’s driving _me_ mental because he’s just stopped. 

I need to stay calm. He’s just playing me. Fuck, I love him so much, not right now obviously (but still right now).

If I had to make a list of things I loved about Baz it would be a bloody long list. But number one would be this, this constant experimenting, not experimenting, challenging, but that’s not quite right either. This. Just us, the same as always but with more sex and slightly fewer insults. Pushing and pulling. 

“Are you awake yet my love?”

The second thing on my list would be how sexy his voice is. There’s a rasp in it this morning, I think it’s because of me, because he wants me. I’m still going to make him work for it. I don’t make any noise. I do twitch my arse slightly closer to him. 

**Baz**

Why is he still such an unutterable brat? Pretending to be asleep but backing right into me. He is a sly ruffian who will need to beg now. Just screaming won’t suffice. 

I take up where I left off, teasing and pinching his nipple while I draw my teeth over his neck. It takes a minute or so to him to start trembling in earnest. I stop. Wait for the writhing that never comes. Fine.

I’m not sure if it’s the sharp nip I give his shoulder or the way I’m tangling my fingers in the thatch of hair low on his belly but he is starting to sweat and gasp under his breath. He’s starting to crumble. He gives in completely when I skim my finger along the underside of his cock.

“Fuck, Baz, I’m awake, just please."

“Good morning darling, tea?”

“No, no thank you, I think I’d like you to fuck me if that’s not too much bother?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to work a little harder than that love.”

I roll him onto his back so I can free my dead arm.

The look on his face is enough to make my heart beat out of my chest. His pupils are blown wide but still ringed in blue, he’s gazing at me like I’m every Christmas present he never got. He’s thinking. His lips get a rough deal when he’s thinking. He tugs at them with his teeth like he is right now. 

"I didn’t mean that, about fucking me."

Oh

I try to pull back but he’s gripping my hand in both of his.

“No, not like that you touchy prat, I mean, Baz, fuck, I’m shit at this stuff. I want you to, you know.”

“Snow I cannot tell you how very much I regret not knowing what you mean right now.” 

Contrary to all of my breeding and every ounce of remaining pride I still lean in to kiss the blush that’s spreading over his cheeks. I’m frustrated and worked up and a little bit scared but so is he. 

I run a a hand through his curls “Tell me love?”

He twists his fingers into mine even harder “I want, I need you to, what you were writing on my thigh. I want that, I need that.”

Set me on fucking fire.

**Simon**

Baz looks as utterly embarrassed as it’s possible to look without being able to blush. I dunno why. I’m the embarrassing idiot that just turned down a good fuck in favour of, well, I just asked him to make love to me didn’t I? Like a softy. But I need it. All this touching might be a game. But it’s not. It’s dressed up as one so we can back out if it gets too real.

I might be thick but I’m not stupid. And I don’t want to back out. 

He kisses me again, gently, on my cheek. I hope I haven’t fucked this up. 

Then he pulls me back into him and drags my thigh up so I reckon we might be ok.

“Simon?" He’s stroking my arse in a very distracting way.

"Yes sweetheart?"

“I do, always."

**Baz**

It must be the weak Grimm genetics. I can find no other explanation that suffices, that begins to cover, _this_.

Merlin, it was one thing tracing endearments into his skin. I was trying to work him up. But I expected him to respond with lust not with tenderness. 

I have almost convinced myself that this is the real situation when he pushes the lube into my hand and grins at me. I grin right back because. Because. Because how is he so funny? And so annoying? And so easy to be with? And so inflammable handsome? And so disarmingly vulnerable? 

It was just supposed to be another way of driving him to mindless desire. 

But that is an absolute lie. I am a liar. I wanted exactly what he wants.

I want to love him, to have him let me.

So here we are. 

He gives a whole body shudder when he feels the cold lube on my finger. I’m not prepared to give an inch of space more than absolutely necessary. It’s making it a little awkward but I do love a challenge. If there is anything better than being wrapped around Simon’s back, breathing in time with him, then it can fuck off, I don’t want it.

He gasps as I increase the pressure just slightly, running my finger around his rim. I expect him to thrust, because he cannot he trusted, but he sighs into me instead. Then his hand is on my face, thumb dragging my lip down. I grab it with my teeth and suck until he’s moaning. I don’t underestimate the trust it takes to put body parts into a vampires mouth but he’s depraved in all the right ways. It doesn’t phase him at all. 

Between the sucking and the circling we are a sweaty, noisy mess. It only gets louder when I push at the same time that Simon’s patience expires and he sinks onto my finger. He has the cheek to give me a satisfied smirk. I kiss it right off his smug mouth. 

“You are an impatient nightmare.”

“I’m your impatient nightmare.”

“Quiet now, unless you want to scream my name.”

He chuckles into my mouth, the sound turns into a sob as I move my finger deeper inside him. It takes a few exploratory thrusts but then I’ve got him. Writhing, tipping his hips, trying to pull me even closer. 

I could lose my mind. I could lose myself in the tumble of his curls, the dampness of his skin, the slick depth of him. 

I need more.

**Simon**

I’m going to lose my shit. It’s good. It’s always good. The cool of his skin, the softness of his hair falling on my face, that finger making everything else fucking pointless. 

I’m about to ask, beg, tell him what I need when he does it anyway. The next finger draws a pathetic sounding whine out of me. It might have started out as his name but by the time it makes it out of my mouth it’s just noise. I turn my face to his, which is harder than it sounds because he’s got me in a spooning death grip (it’s amazing). He darts his tongue into the corner of my mouth. Licking at my lip. I just whine at him some more. 

He is doing indescribable things inside me. I can feel my pulse in my ears, through my stomach, around his fingers. Just as something is about to happen he pulls out with a filthy sounding squelch. 

“Baz, please, please.” 

I want him to win if winning means I get to feel him inside me again. He’s not in the mood for teasing anymore if the growl he stifles into my neck is anything to go by. I manage to awkwardly shove a hand between us to stroke his cock. I feel like I haven’t touched him enough today. He’s still growling into me (fuck it’s so hot, rumbling over my skin) and pushing into my hand. Its a sloppy mess between us of sweat and lube and pre come. For some reason I like it loads. 

**Baz**

Simon is half twisted in my arms trying to get a good grip on my cock.

Which is chaos given the position.

It’s lovely chaos though.

Warm and stupid. 

I let him guide me to where he wants me. Where I want to be. I would take my time but I’m fresh out of willpower. I pull him even closer as I push inside. I’m gripping him far too tightly but any space between us is unacceptable. 

We move together like we’ve done this a thousand times before, like we’ve always know exactly how to make each other burn. 

I want to keep doing this forever but it’s going to be over in seconds unless I can focus. 

“Simon.”

“Love, please keep, please?”

“I love you, I love the way you’ve banged into every door frame you’ve ever walked through."

He laughs, then moans, then rolls his hips to pull me deeper. 

“I love the way you clench your jaw ready for a fight. I love the way you snort when you laugh, I love the way you grab your hair when you get frustrated, I love the way you slouch, I fucking love you. All of you.”

I reach down and grasp his cock, he winds his fingers into my hair, pulling me even closer, until I’m kissing him, still murmuring the reasons I love him into his skin. I’m driving into him as hard as I can from this stupid position I’ve trapped us in. It’s enough though, more than enough.

**Simon**

I’m bursting with everything he’s doing, his words are swirling in my brain like a fog of things I want to believe. 

It’s easy to believe I’m annoying. 

It’s harder to believe he likes it. 

He’s making a good argument for it though.

When he palms my cock I try to pull him closer because this is it. I can’t hold on much longer.

“I’m close love, come, please.”

Baz lets out a tiny desperate cry and trembles as he comes, throbbing and pulsing into me. I’m right behind him and as I come all over his hand and my belly the world goes white. Magic shimmers in the air, in each slight space between us. It glints off our skin, warming the room, filling it with firefly that aren’t quite here. 

That’s all very well. It’s cool and stuff. But I love him and he loves me and we’ve let each other love. That’s the magic I really needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://sourcherrymagiks.tumblr.com/) 💕💕


End file.
